Remembering the Kelvin
by cedarrapidsgirl78
Summary: Jim finally has to go to a remembrance ceremony for the Kelvin. Kirk/McCoy slash implied, but it's just barely there. Don't like, don't read.


This was written as an extension of a 100 word drabble written for the Livejournal Community "kirkmccoy100", with the prompt "Kelvin". When I went to research the proper usage for the word "unobtrusive", this was the sentence it gave me. _The stars are distant and unobtrusive, but bright and enduring as our fairest and most memorable experiences. _While I don't think this will be one of Jim's most _fairest_ experiences, but probably one of his most memorable.

Starfleet was opening a new wing of the History Building, on the 25th anniversary of the Kelvin disaster. And they wanted Jim Kirk there. Of course they did. Starfleet wouldn't miss a chance to show off James T. Kirk, son of the great George Kirk. The miscreant-turned hero showing up to honor his late father. The man who gave his life so that, yes, over 800 people could escape the doomed ship, including him and his mother. Like he hadn't heard _that _phrase before. Please. He really didn't want to go, as neither he nor his mother had attended any of the previous small ceremonies that had been held in San Francisco every year. Jim had even refused to go his first two years in the Academy, preferring instead to hide in his room with Bones and get totally passed-out-cold drunk.

This year, of course, was different. Now he was a hero, or so he was told, also over and over again. And that hero, the new pride and joy of the 'fleet, was expected to be at this ceremony and unveiling. He didn't try to get out of his attendance this time. It wouldn't have been easy anyway, since one of the Admirals threw it out there as almost an afterthought after his captaincy ceremony. "Oh, Captain, there's going to be a small ceremony on the dedication at the Kelvin Wing of the History Building this Saturday, be there by 1400 hours." It didn't take much for Jim to figure out that his being there wasn't a "if you feel like it", it was an order. Jim agreed, but did put in his own ultimatum: He would not make a speech. They agreed.

On that day, his birthday, he wondered if anyone else remembered _that_, except for him and Bones, Jim dressed in his cadet reds and headed over to the building. With Bones at his side, Jim made his way through the crowd into the exhibit. Just the entrance, he stopped. There were people everywhere, mingling. A small stage had been set up. For a moment, which felt like an eternity, Jim couldn't move, and he sure as hell couldn't go any further in that room. He just couldn't. No one else understood. And everyone was staring. Then, an unobtrusive yet reassuring hand in the small of his back from Bones brought Jim back to the present. Jim looked at his best friend, dazed, suddenly overwhelmed by the whole situation. After another nudge and a sympathetic smile from Bones, Jim started toward the stage, where some chairs had been set up. He felt the eyes on him as he walked, heard more of the whispers he had heard all his life. When he reached the seats, a very nervous looking Ensign wordlessly guided them to some seats in the front row. Jim sat down, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes and finally dared to look around, he couldn't believe what he saw. In a little huddle, together and separate from the crowd, was his senior bridge crew from the Enterprise. He almost didn't recognize them, looking so young back in their cadet uniforms, save for Spock in his teacher's black, and Scotty in his Commander's dress uniform. Jim caught Spock's eye, and held his gaze for a minute, and Spock nodded his acknowledgment of the Captain for the collected crew. Jim nodded back at his crew, then quickly looked away. He closed his eyes again, willing the tears to not fall as Bones grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. He took another deep ragged breath as the ceremony started. Bones squeezed his hand again, and Jim raised his head defiantly, pent up tears finally running down his cheeks.


End file.
